Tea Time
by saberbride
Summary: It's useless. It's all useless--at least, those were the words her brother would use for this difficult and awkward situation. RonovexGretelcrack!


**Tea Time**

_RonovexGretel crack! pairing or something_

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The game board was frozen in its frame; no one would be making their move anytime soon, simply taking a few moments to observe and strategize in order to corner the opponent. Or rather, just to cool their heads until they were in a state to resume the conflict. Both opponents, that Golden Witch, and the redheaded teen, had left their seats in a fit. He, of course, had raged and stormed out, while she, appearing troubled, had faded away in her trademark golden butterflies.

This sudden event had left the two supporting allies from either side in a stale silence. Neither made a move to pursue their respective parties--after all, they weren't ignorant and realized that each needed some time to themselves. Yet neither budged from their stations to go their own ways, either. Finally, the figure leaning against the wall with arms crossed shifted and straightened her posture, stepping away from the wall with a quiet rustle of her clothes. There was no need for her presence at the moment.

"Are you going after your brother, Miss Gretel?"

Ushiromiya Ange, under the alias 'Gretel,' aimed a suspicious, accusing glare at the demonic butler. It didn't necessarily come to her as a surprise that a great demon such as himself wasn't oblivious to her secret, no, rather it was that sarcastic nuance with which he spoke that brought such a disgusted expression to her features. He was all too aware that those were not her plans, and she knew this. It was just a way for him to pass the time, to toy with her for no reason. It only fueled her dislike for this particular creature.

"_Pukuku_," Ronove's deceitfully polite chuckle rang through the room as he, with a well-practiced flourish, materialized a fine tea set and tray of biscuits onto the nearest tabletop. Of course, the teacup was already filled with the hot liquid, releasing aromatic clouds of steam around the room. Earl Grey, was it…(perhaps not; she wasn't a connoisseur of tea after all)? What an arrogant little show of magic. It was almost a shame that it would be put to waste, for it was no doubt prepared supremely by someone of his caliber. However, she had no intention of setting even a finger on that fine teacup.

Her narrowed blue eyes studied the butler's neutral expression critically, taking in with a sneer his finely-trimmed mustache and spotless monocle that shone almost deviously in the scarce light of the room. "I know you don't expect me to drink that, so cut the camaraderie act and keep the jokes to your mustache." A bitter response. She didn't care to be part of his amusement right now. Wandering the halls and having another run-in with that blonde Voyager Witch would have been higher on her priorities list than idle chat with a demon allied with her enemy. That said, she turned on her heel and reached forward to open the parlor door. It wouldn't budge.

Another irritated expression contorted her face. The hand that rested on the door handle refused to release its grip. She felt that if she allowed her temper to flare, she would be losing some sort of unspoken battle. Instead, she merely cast that same unimpressed glare over her shoulder to display her annoyance.

"My, my, insulting someone's kindness with such hurtful words? That is quite unbecoming for a lady." That condescending sarcasm had weaved into his speech once more.

"…Antagonizing me is useless. Don't waste my time." Another slight tug at the door. "A demon like you should have more important things to do. What rank are you again…? Twenty-something. I'm pretty sure Maria onee-chan mentioned something about it."

"I did not foresee that Lady MARIA would speak of me." By now, he'd seen that the tea had gone cold, and lifted the tea pot to refill it.

"Keep in mind it's not flattery. She just has extensive knowledge over that kind of subject." That, and Ange had made sure she knew what types of demons Beatrice had under her command. Her disinterested gaze shifted to the refilled teacup. How annoying. He knew she wouldn't drink it, so why was he wasting the effort? Habit, she supposed.

"Try the tea, Miss Gretel. It would not disappoint even those with the uncultured palate." Who was he to criticize her insults? He was doing the same thing in a far more subtle, irritatingly refined manner.

Annoyance and irritation had escalated to mild rage. The redhead finally allowed her hand to fall from the door handle as she moved a few paces toward the dark-haired man, who, taking this as an agreement, raised the teacup and its saucer from the table and held it towards her. The poor teacup was still denied, however, and easily knocked aside by a quick swipe of the girl's hand. It would have fallen to the floor, had the demon not been so graceful and expectant of this act. He allowed it to be knocked away, still keeping a hold on it, as his guest used the same offending hand to grab one of his gold-lined lapels.

She didn't care about losing whatever challenge he was issuing anymore. The tension in the air had been increasing, oppressing her from the start, and she suddenly realized that this had probably been a set-up. His idea of picking a fight with her, of all people, was beyond her. Either way, she'd decided to react. She drew her opposing hand into a fist and launched it towards Ronove's chin. It probably wouldn't deal any damage, yet it would help ease her rage all the same.

A small smirk formed beneath that dark mustache as he caught her fist in one of his gloved hands, losing no elegance. It didn't have nearly as much driving force behind it as her cousin Jessica's had.

"Tch," Ange's narrowed blue gaze pierced the butler's cool stare as she removed her grip on his lapel and sharply slapped her free hand across his face. It would have felt like a victory, yet she knew he'd allowed her strike to slip past his defenses. Otherwise, her hand would have collided with an unpleasant magic barrier.

Ronove let his head snap to the side briefly before he returned his stare to the front. He hadn't expected her to deliver such a sharp blow; it seemed she'd been able to draw blood. In one practiced gesture, he swiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and lowered his hand, allowing the rose petals held within to flutter softly to the floor.

Now that her rage had been unleashed, she wasn't about to let up. She threw her fist forward once more, aiming to bury it in his smug face. However, he seemed to have set down the teacup and saucer, as he was able to catch this punch as well. Now they were in a deadlock, her hands held within his.

"_Pukuku. _I'd always thought you to be the non-confrontational type. What is this sudden deviation in character, Miss Gretel?" Unruffled, he looked down on the enraged redhead. He could feel her fists shaking in his grasp, from rage no doubt. "Perhaps you should try the tea, now. Relieving stress is one of its special qualities."

"I don't drink tea." Ange replied, her usually neutral tone bordering on a snarl. She didn't think she'd gotten this upset since the incident in St. Lucia's. "Least of all, tea made by someone like you. We're on different sides, so there's no point in acting friendly." A faint scowl morphed her face as she pulled her hands away from the demon's, not wanting that touch to linger.

"Why, I did not know you felt such opposition to the matter. I see no problem with being cordial to opponents. And, might I remind you, we are not _direct_ opponents. Furthermore…" His smarmy expression returned. "Those Seven Sisters happen to be on Lady Beatrice's side as well, do they not…?"

That was correct. In this timeline, the Rokkenjima of 1986, the Stakes of Purgatory were Beatrice the Golden's furniture. Barely even allowed contact with Ange. In essence, she was alone in this year, even in Purgatory. Bringing that up was quite a low, taunting blow. And effective.

"I don't want to hear you talk about them…!" It was a repetitive move, but regardless she launched another poorly-aimed punch to his face. This one, yet again, did not connect.

Ronove had already granted her that freebie slap. Now, she was just getting selfish. It was amusing, however, to see the expression on her face when he'd once again thwarted her fist, gripping her hand lightly and pulling her towards him instead of repelling her. She'd been caught in something like an awkward mid-twirl before her back had collided with his chest. Once she regained her footing, she made to distance herself as far as possible, yet he didn't seem keen on letting go this time. Still at an uncomfortably close proximity, hand still in his grasp, she twisted her body so that she could glare up at his calm face and maneuver her free hand up to his cravat.

"…Your tea is getting cold, Miss Gretel." Unruffled, he looked down on the enraged redhead. Her fist shook as it tightly gripped the dark material around his neck, wrinkling it something terrible.

The redheaded witch released a scoff, once more ignoring the proffered tea. "You and your tea can go to hell, where you belong. I don't like this game you're playing…go find another main character." His laughter, which she could feel reverberating in his chest, was the only response to this. She recoiled with an irritated "tch," but her struggle was futile. He still wouldn't let go.

It was useless.

"On the contrary, you are quite fitting for the role."

"What role would that be?" She gave a harsh tug at the wine-colored cravat, digging her fingers deeper into the material and succeeding in causing his head to bow slightly.

"Shall I demonstrate?" Following those words, the demon grasped the hand that was crushing his neckerchief and pulled it free with ease unknown to humans. Ange herself was shocked with how quickly he'd pried her hand away, though considering he was a demon it was to be expected, really. Placing his hands on her shoulders, continuing his 'demonstration,' Ronove turned Ange so that she was facing him and then gave a gentle push so that she had no choice but to fall onto the chair behind her.

"Wh--" A low hiss of surprise left the redhead's lips and she immediately made to stand-- however, a teacup atop its saucer had prevented her from doing so. She stared curiously at the steaming teacup that was being held before her, wondering just why this furniture was being so insistent on her trying the tea. If she didn't know better, she'd assume it was poisoned. "Why…"

Ronove simply looked down at her with a polite, charming smile, that monocle of his once again catching the light. "I only wish for you to relax and enjoy your tea."

With that completely disinterested expression, Ange snatched up the teacup, raising it close enough to her lips just so the aroma brushed past her nose, but not moving it any closer. She was still dubious, after all. But she'd already accepted it despite her previous words, so it wasn't as if finishing her action would be a problem. The only thing that bothered her was that he was _watching_. She closed her eyes with a scoff and silently sipped the tea, if only to meet his expectations and give him reason to leave her be.

As soon as she'd done that, she almost didn't want to open her eyes again. It brought a sense of overwhelming calm over her stressed body--which she hadn't even realized had been tense in the first place. It seemed that fight had gotten her more worked up than she intended. This feeling reminded her of the times she'd been _happy_. With her brother, so many years ago…with the Stakes…with Maria and Sakutarou…being able to see her brother again… The faint curve of a smile rose on her lips as she thought she felt something like a comforting hand atop her head.

The sound of the parlor door being opened shattered that brief moment of peace; she snapped from her reminiscent haze and allowed her apathetic expression to fall back into place as she sent her sharp gaze towards the interruption. Battler had returned, and she knew that soon enough, the Game would resume.

Setting her teacup on the table, she cast a covert gaze around the room. It was empty, save for herself and the redhead at the door. Perhaps that encounter had just been a dream…?

"Ihihi~ Heya, Gretel. Looks like Beato's not here yet. Got any advice for me before she comes back?"

Dream or not, she was grateful for that brief moment of peace she'd been granted. It was probably the only time she'd be able to relax. From here on out, things would become difficult.

"Just don't screw things up."

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**Author's Note: Haha just a completely and utterly random piece of crack I wrote up a while back for some reason...hope it wasn't a waste of time, and thanks for reading!**


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